Bodies In Motion
by angelofplottwists
Summary: Bodies in motion stay in motion unless acted upon by an outside force. Bodies not in motion remain not in motion unless acted upon by an outside force. And Watanuki is leaving. [104]
1. packing books in boxes

_This one was written over the weekend to the song "Books Into Boxes" by Maximo Pork. I recommend it greatly. Also, chaptered fic alert. There will be more. I repeat, there will be more._

_Anyway, if you feel at all kind or even (dare I say it) enjoyed the story, please review. It really does make my day. Which is sad. But true._

_I dedicate it to Kiin, the (gen!)Watanuki to my Doumeki, and Zwip, who recently has been providing me way too much material for obsession and thus has endeared...her/himself to me.  
_

* * *

I didn't expect you to be so…_blunt_ about it. Going. Disappearing. Wasn't this exactly what I'd been fighting all the time I had known you? Was this hitsuzen, damning me to failure before I'd begun, making all I've striven for insignificant? So for a moment I merely stared at you, not only rendered speechless but having lost the capacity for language. 

"Will you be back?" I finally asked, in what was probably the same voice I always used in your ears. But your troubled face spoke volumes more about the truth than I needed to know. The end was in sight, and it didn't matter that we would both survive. Mine was a selfish desire. For you to be safe would not suffice – you had to be safe and _here_, for me to be able to protect you next time. Not under Yuuko-san's surveillance alone, especially not in some unknown world. I didn't care to know what the reason was.

You cast about for an answer but seemed unable to find one. "I'll see you again," you finally settled for with a hint of resignation. "Although I bet you'll be fine as soon as you find another source of lunch. It probably won't be nearly as good as I make it, but I suppose any port in storm for a greedy jerk like you." The irritation seemed strained, but it was familiar and probably the closest I would get to an apology or goodbye. It was what I had expected.

It wasn't enough.

"Have you finished packing?" I inquired, hoping to confuse you if only momentarily. I wanted to see you in each extreme of mood once more before you left. And I succeeded – you could only blink for five seconds, after which you launched yourself into a rant about how demanding the world (namely Yuuko-san and I) was on your time, and of course you hadn't finished.

"I'll help," I told you, prepared to fight for the privelege every step of the way.

"I – what?" you replied, cut off midway through a sentence.

But I was at the door already, pulling on shoes and lifting the umbrella from its stand. "Let's go," I said. You blinked again and agreed, albeit with more ranting about orders and how I was probably just hoping for a last free meal. I wasn't – hope generally implies that there would be a possibility of the event not occurring. And it was more important that I spend the evening with you, as much time as I could. Obviously you didn't mind; why else would you have come here, out of the way from your walk home from work, if not because it mattered?

As I had suspected, it was raining as we left. You glared, but mostly at the weather, and made no move to leave the safety of my umbrella. It was a small consolation, a last time spent together. It would be worth every ounce of difficulty it caused me, every bit of hearing damage incurred. But it was only an evening, and to think it could ever equal your value was an exercise in denial and therefore pointlessness. Still, I would take what I could get. For now.

I knew that the moment I allowed myself to think about that, I would have to give up the 'for now'. And that was something I couldn't do yet.

We walked in silence. You probably didn't know what to say. I couldn't verbalise what I felt. I still couldn't really get my mind around the fact that it was ending like this, a trip out of my grasp that somehow could break every connection. My every belief in free will and my every promise to stay within reach of you was being called into question, because this was one place I suspected even I could not follow. The price would be too high – something I would not pay because it would probably end up being the very thing I wanted to save. What could I possibly say to that?

I didn't say anything, When we arrived at your flat I lost my desire to do so. It was filled with boxes in a highly advanced form of organised chaos, an effect I was sure only you could achieve. Yet unpacked was all kitchenware and a few piles of books, neatly stacked on a table that represented all furniture left in the room. Despite the accumulation of all your worldly possessions – not very many, but that was inconsequential – on the floor, the room looked too empty. You weren't a part of this place any more. You didn't belong here any more than I did.

I felt no need to see any more.

But I stepped inside anyway, slipping off my shoes and propping the umbrella in a corner. You disappeared into the kitchen with a few objects from the table, leaving me for a while to my own devices. Unsure of what to start with, I picked up a book from the top of one stack and opened the cover. A shower of photographs fell down onto the table as you returned with a plate of food and a rant that ended midway as you noticed the photos.

Instead of beginning the rant anew as I had expected, you blushed and merely snapped, "_now_ look what you've done!" Unfazed, I picked one image up for closer inspection. The scene was familiar, one I recognised almost immediately – the sixteenth birthday, first that I had been present for. This was obviously taken by Yuuko-san herself, perfectly timed to catch your look of rage as I bit into what had probably been your roll. Behind us, Kunogi-san was laughing merrily and Mokona was downing a beer.

Curiosity now piqued, I examined the others. There was Yuuko-san herself, clutching you her side with a look reeking of evil as you protested. You, passed out drunk in the park (a picture I had taken at Yuuko-san's prompting). There we were again, one of many lunches that passed without significant event. Kunogi-sane, many times over, and in some with Tampopo. Mugetsu in full glory, sitting on your back in the shop. Kohane-chan, smiling over a bentou.

"Mementos," you muttered. "Yuuko-san gave me some, and others I already had."

"Mementos?" I repeated, not deigning to ask which were which. But I all-too-easily could see you gathering such photos, as easily as I could see you perusing them nightly. Again I felt a clench of something that might have been anger but more likely was regret. I would only ever see that in my mind's eye.

"Go on, laugh," you said angrily, or perhaps merely irritably. "I'm sure you're barely able to hold it in, although why you would even bother to do such a thing escapes me."

I didn't feel any need at all to laugh. I was caught between wanting to hold onto you, not letting go for as long as I could, and the knowledge that this would have been the worst possible thing for me to do. Rooting around for a distraction, I selected a picture at random and held it up to you, asking, "when was this taken?"

To my amusement, you blushed again. "Ah – that, I…" You trailed off for a moment for a calming breath and I took the opportunity to glance at the photo in question. This one was of only me, to my surprise, and at an archery meet. For lack of a better response, I raised an eyebrow.

"H-Himawari-chan wanted me to take it, all right?" you finally stammered. "It was that big meet, and she was sick."

That didn't explain why you had kept it, or at least a copy, but I didn't really care enough to ask. You had begun to stack books, concealing a face that probably was still red, and so I joined the effort. I took great pains to break your careful arrangement, and when you finally realised what I was doing the damage was irreparable.

"You bastard, you did that on purpose!" you yelled indignantly. "I _knew_ this would happen!"

I shrugged, and resumed stacking books out of order. With a long-suffering sigh, you acknowledged your defeat by resuming your own work. All too soon the books were contained in five cardboard boxes, carefully labeled and stacked. We turned to the pots and other various kitchen items next, which took next to no time to stow away. Suddenly there was nothing but the photographs and us in a roomful of boxes.

"If you want a few…" you mumbled, looking down at the former objects. I raised both eyebrows. "If you want a few, I have some extras."

I hadn't expected that. After a pause that could have been construed as awkward, I replied "yes" in the steadiest voice I could manage and once more had to fight an urge that would have done no good for either of us.

"Not even a thank-you?" you demanded, although your voice was too high and strained. I began to wonder if I wasn't the only one unhappy with this arrangement. "The great Watanuki-sama is offering you precious objects from his collection, and that's all you have to say?!"

"If they're that valuable," I told you, "then I'll look after them."

"What?" you asked, probably either surprised by or suspicious of the sincerity.

"Thank you," I said.

We stared for a moment at each other, as your face turned another interesting shade of red. If only we could have had more time, that possibility might have been able to be explored; as it was, all that I could feel was regret. There was not reason for me to stay here as things stood. It was too late to open that particular door.

"Maru and Moro can receive letters for me," you said abruptly. "If there are any to receive." I recognised the offer for what it was and thought bitterly that even now you couldn't bring yourself to admit to friendship.

"I'll bring them there, then," I replied, refusing at all costs to repeat your phrase of denial. Then, lacking a better parting line, I pulled on my shoes and left. It was still raining. By the time I remembered my umbrella, I was already more than halfway home and soaked. You hadn't had one usable, and I could always find another.

I walked home.

The pounding rain continued its bleak fall 

_We decided just to write after all._


	2. you pass me up

_Chapter two marks the end of crazy first person until the last chapter. I think I've solidified this to five chapters, although I make no promises. Again, written to Maximo Pork's "Books Into Boxes". Review? You know you want to.  
_

* * *

It was morning, _the_ morning, by the time Watanuki noticed the umbrella left discreetly in the corner. Trust the jerk to forget something just when it would cause the most bother, he thought irritably. Now it would have to be returned. He supposed he could just leave there for the next inhabitant to deal with, but although this idea appealed to his sense of righteous and constant irritation with Doumeki, he found that leaving it behind in an abandoned room made him feel oddly lonely.

So therefore when the cab arrived, after loading his boxes in the back Watanuki went back with a scowl and fetched the mbrella, giving the waiting one final instruction upon his return. This really was more trouble than it was worth, especially for some guy he didm't even like. It would add more time to his already-lengthy journey. The jerk had better damn well appreciate this, Watanuki fumed. In his opinion, it was more than was deserved.

That wasn't necessarily true, though, if looked at objectively. Doumeki _had _saved his life far more than was comfortable to admit, even in private thoughts. And for what thanks? Well, lunch every day, but what value did that have in comparison to life? And how many lives had Watanuki been given? Yet Doumeki never asked for anything more than lunch, even if he did ask for the most extreme recipes in the most irritating tone possible. And he endured both physical pain and animosity from the one he'd always gone out of his way to save.

He wouldn't any more, though. Yuuko had even gone so far as to specifically say so, in a tone that suggested that the boy in question wouldn't take kindly to or believe this fact. But there it was – he, Watanuki, was leaving on some insane mission that he probably wouldn't return from.

When Yuuko had first suggested it (less suggested, more ordered) Watanuki had been at first skeptical, and had moved on to outrage soon after. The theory was that in another dimension there would be no spirits, and if he settled in well he could simply stay there. The price was apparently something he could afford with what he'd already earned in service, which was an immediate plus over all other options. Another benefit was that it was a fully-developed plan, whereas any other solutions were merely hypothetical. But leaving this dimension still seemed at little…extreme.

Even so, thinly-veiled hints at what alternatives might end up being did nothing to Watanuki any more at ease. This was a concrete option, after all, and didn't involve any rearranging of his psyche or loss of body parts. And wasn't this what he'd been waiting for, nearly all his life? It may have been slightly extreme, but at least it was plausible.

In the end, he'd agreed to try it. Maybe he would fit in there, in some unknown world. Maybe there he would be more at home than his current world. There was always hope, and also the knowledge that Yuuko would not leave him to flounder. Equal service meant he could at least stay in contact.

He'd told Himawari on the way home from school, and it had been easier than he'd feared. In the same action he had introduced her (with the ever-faithful Tampopo) to Kohane, who while having taken the news rather well should not have been left with only stupid Doumeki to look out for her. That had been the hardest part, and Watanuki had almost called off the whole business – except that Kohane had absolutely forbidden such an act. "It's your wish," she had pointed out. "We'll write to you."

And then, Doumeki. Who could have taken it any way but wouldn't have said anything more than he had. But he had helped to pack, and he'd taken one of the group photographs. And he'd left his umbrella in the corner, the only tangible sign that he'd ever been inside the flat – well, that and the disorganisation of Watanuki's books. Watanuki himself sighed inwardly at that, but in reality the fate of reordering them wasn't too dismal. The reason he'd yelled was that if he hadn't he wouldn't have known what to do.

They'd been at odds to long to amend their actions now.

But Watanuki would return the umbrella.

The temple came into view and the taxi slowed to a stop. With a strange sense of urgency that had little to do with the desire to reach his final destination, he exited the cab and ran without opening the umbrella through the rain. He paused at the residence door itself, unsure for a moment, but it opened of its own volition to a slightly-less-than-expressionless Doumeki.

"You left your umbrella," Watanuki explained in a rush, suddenly feeling ridiculous and reckless for his mad dash – he was still breathing hard and his face was turning an unrepentent shade of shade. But Doumeki didn't comment upon it.

"Keep it," he said instead. "They might not have them where you're going."

There was absolutely nothing to take offense to in that statement, leaving Watanuki momentarily speechless. Doumeki stepped out toward the gate, outside of which the cab was waiting, and again there was that flash or could-have-been. Watanuki opened the umbrella and stepped back into the rain, to where his friend – he _was_ a friend, after all – was waiting. There was another pause. Watanuki opened his mouth to say something, a final goodbye perhaps, but there were lips on his for a moment and then Doumeki pulled away and gave him a push toward the cab.

In a daze, Watanuki stumbled over and opened the door, almost forgetting to close the umbrella as he sat down. That had been…had been…a kiss? But since did Doumeki…kiss anyone? Kiss him? What did it _mean_?

The could-have-beens expanded, and as the rain began in earnest again Watanuki stared back in surprise and regret. The cab, unconcerned, sped away toward a future that suddenly seemed extremely limited.

Rain explodes the moment that the cab door closed 

_I feel the weight upon your kiss: ambiguous._


	3. will not let you down

_Chapter three. It's short. My apologies._

* * *

He hadn't moved for a while, watching the place he'd last seen the taxi as if it would return. It hadn't, and eventually he had returned inside in what he supposed dully was an advanced state of shock.

This was several weeks ago.

"_If there are any letters,"_ Watanuki had said. There had been, of course. Kunogi-san had sent several that he knew of. Each reply she received she read aloud, and Shizuka would listen with guilt. His wastebasket was filled with failed attempts in such a pursuit, and lately he hadn't been able to write anything at all. He wondered if Kunogi knew, and that was why she read the letters she received out loud. Even if that was the case, it didn't make him feel any better.

Shizuka was sitting at his desk again, staring at a blank sheet of paper and wondering what he could possible write. He'd never been any good at verbalisation, even when speaking. Here he was at a complete loss, although that at least was achingly normal. He was always at a loss wherever Watanuki was concerned.

But what to say? Should he mention that last day when he'd finally decided to hell with self-restraint, or not? Was that something he shouldn't bring up? Would it even make a difference at this point?

…No, it really wouldn't. Which was the worst part.

This was getting him nowhere. Surely there was _something _ to say, something that had been hinted to exhaustion in the years they'd squandered in that petty one-sided rivalry. But the only thing that thought led to was an apology, which would have failed miserably and not made the impression it should. Watanuki did not accept apologies in the same way that Shizuka did not accept thanks. This probably played a large part in the their difficulties, but also perhaps in their friendship, because Shizuka did not customarily regret, and Watanuki didn't know how to accept.

And what was impossible in words would be no more plausible in writing. So that part would be kept to himself, as most things were, and Shizuka was still stuck for something to write in the infuriatingly blank letter. What did one generally write in letters? Was that even applicable? If anything, he should avoid the 'normal' things to write, because their situation was about as abnormal as it could get.

"Mail, Shizuka," his mother called, and he looked up in surprise. He never got mail…

--

Later, the letter he'd received lay open on the desk, and he was scribbling furiously. The wastebasket had been emptied and was filled over halfway again with discarded messages. _"I'm going to be going…"_ could be read from where he sat, and he shook his head at his own failure to write a decent letter.

He stared at what he'd just written (_"I won't be able to write you anything for a while"_) before crumpling it and tossing it to join the rest. It was becoming progressively harder to say what he needed to, but he refused to give up and disappear without a word. He would write something before the night was up.

The letter addressed to him was from a generic university he'd applied to in an uninterested attempt to make some backup plans. He'd been accepted. A few weeks ago, he might have ignored it, or sent it to the same fate that met all his own failed letter. But he'd thought about it for a while, and then made arrangements to leave to see it for the next day. If he was going to be living a fairly normal life now, he might as well start properly.

And he would start by succeeding in writing a letter.

He continued his staring match with the blank sheet before him a little while longer, and began to write again. _"Watanuki – "_

That looked strange. He never called Watanuki by name. But "hey" or "oi" were not such good openers for a letter, either. He'd just start without a salutation, then. It wasn't as if one would be expected, even if it did look odd.

After five more tries, he surveryed his results and yawned hugely. The clock informed him that the time was past two in the morning and that he really should sleep. This draft would have to do, even if it wasn't absolutely perfect. And there was always the next letter. He'd eventually get better at this, just like he'd gotten better at anticipating when to carry his bow and hearing the hidden meanings in what was said at a yell but meant in a whisper.

The next morning, he made one stop as he walked to the train station. It was not nearly as eventful as Watanuki's one stop had been, but perhaps it was more productive.

He left the letter like a promise on the doorstep, not really wanting to knock and see who would answer in lieu of Watanuki. And he looked back, merely a glance, as he walked away, and wondered if it were a promise made in vain.


	4. rope ladders into your heart

_This thing's lengthened to at least six, possibly seven chapters. The end is taking up way more space than I thought it would._

_And please review, if you read. Even something short. I don't care if you don't have much to say, or if you have something you didn't like about the story. Feedback is important to me._

* * *

Another gust of wind buffeted him, and Watanuki felt hollow and light. He wondered if the next would blow him away completely. This was the only world Yuuko had found for him that didn't already contain another version of him. And it was free of spirits, and he had a place to stay, and he supposed he could live a normal life here.

But there wasn't much to do.

So he was sitting out on the breakwater, watching the tide come in and breathing in sea-scent. Remembering. He'd been here almost two months now, and that seemed to be all he could do.

He would try to think of Kohane-chan with the umbrella, of Himawari-chan and Tampopo with their shared smile, and if he succeeded in doing so would feel at ease because they had given their blessing and he knew that they were doing everything they possibly could to find a happy life. Watanuki thought if he remembered them enough, he could follow their example and have a happy life, too. Both wrote him letters from time to time, all warm wishes and stories and once or twice a photograph.

But often, too often, his thoughts would trail back to Doumeki, and their strange farewell. And he would touch his lips to his fingers and wonder what he had missed in all the time they'd known each other. He would attempt to find the anger, but without Doumeki's presence to make it easier, all he could summon up was a heaviness in his chest that felt too much like regret.

Watanuki wanted to be the kind of person who lived without regret, but he had never had much success. He wondered if Doumeki had felt regret on that rainy day when he'd forgone the umbrella and kissed Watanuki goodbye.

He wondered if it would make a difference, if he hadn't.

There was a letter in his pocket that he didn't want to read. It wasn't from Kohane or Himawari, and Yuuko never wrote. He didn't want to think about the alternative. Living in ignorance, he could at least pretend that the door was not really closed, but to have solid evidence – worse than speech, which could be persuaded otherwise – would end any denial still retained after all this time. He'd had the letter for three days already.

So he played with an edge, stared out at that gray sea, and tried not to think about Doumeki. It was a mission doomed to failure, as the corner of paper kept the memories fresh in his mind without having to find connections. Why should there even be a letter? What was there left to say? Unless there was an explanation, but Watanuki was afraid it would be the wrong one.

There were too many things to explain, and few of the explanations would help him retain any hope.

"_Have you decided the answers already?"_ Yuuko would have asked with the glint in her eyes that hinted at something she knew that he didn't. But Watanuki shook the lingering voice from his head and stared resolutely out to sea.

Oh, hell. He'd know eventually.

With both reluctance and a perverse anticipation, he drew the letter from his pocket and hesitated over the envelope. But he had to know now, couldn't stop the damning process. He opened the letter.

_I'm leaving for university tomorrow. Thought you'd want to know._

_I hope you're well._

_Shizuka_

He blinked. The message remained as sparse as before. The back of the paper was completely blank, and the was no second sheaf. "Is that it, you jerk?" he demanded of the empty air. It wasn't the same as yelling at Doumeki himself, but it was necessary and slightly therapeutic. Everything that moron did was so infuriating. Even writing a letter.

He reread the letter and for the first time the message registered in his brain. "Wait, what?" he cried, unable to explain the sudden panic but fearing it had something to do with the fact that Shi – _Doumeki, _dammit! – was leaving. Had left.

"_Leaving? Like you did?"_ his inner Yuuko inquired nastily. _"What, were you expecting him to wait for you?"_

He was forced to admit to himself that he had been subconsciously thinking along those lines. But hadn't Doumeki always waited before? It wasn't something he _wanted_, it was just strange that it wasn't happening.

"_So you expect him to wait for you, even when you're completely out of his grasp? When you've left him for good?" _the nagging voice persisted.

"I can't even win an argument with myself," sighed Watanuki, resigning himself to failure and feeling decidedly depressed about everything in general. If the letter was getting him down more than anything else, that was purely happenstance. And it's not like it _mattered_ at this point. It was already too late.

Actually…

It _wasn't_ too late. He could call this whole experiment off, doom himself to seeing spirits forever, a lifelong servitude to Yuuko, or quite possibly both. He could do that. He would be throwing away his life's goal of years before, but all things had a price. But for what? A chance to see some jerk when he came home once or twice a year? A chance to see someone he didn't even like? An existence like he'd known before Yuuko's solution, one that involved mortal danger and fear as a daily event?

He didn't know if it was the monotony of this world, or a subconscious suicidal or masochistic streak, but somehow these ideas didn't seem nearly so horrible.

Eyeing the letter, he wondered what going back would mean. An inevitable confrontation, yes. An inevitable conclusion. And things would change, simply because they could do nothing but. Things had already changed, and since Watanuki had orchestrated these changes, he couldn't complain at all.

But at least he would be doing something.

"Yuuko-san," he called, feeling a bit self-conscious. For a moment he didn't think she would appear, but then his employer's face appeared in a puddle to his left.

"Going back so soon?" she inquired knowingly. Once, this might have inspired rage, but Yuuko's mirth was oddly comforting, so Watanuki smiled slightly and nodded. "It took you less time than I had feared."

"Then you knew all along I wouldn't stay here?" he asked.

"I didn't know for sure," Yuuko replied. "But I had hoped. After all, I've never had such good help around the shop."

He ignored the teasing for what it was. "But Yuuko-san, what will I do now?"

The Witch of the Dimensions smiled enigmatically and perhaps kindly up at him. "You'll make it up as you go along, of course," she told him. "Same as everyone else."


	5. coming home to you

_And thus the ending begins. Remember to review afterwards, please?_

_seven chapters anticipated now. THIS THIS WILL NOT END.  
_

* * *

Watanuki hadn't expected to turn up here of all places, but here he was in the park with a satisfied-looking Yuuko standing over him and _not_ helping him up. "Our hero returns," she commented. "You're in _debt_, Watanuki!" With a smirk, she skipped away toward a bag that probably contained inordinate amounts of alcohol and sat down next to it. "What will you do now?" 

It seemed like an innocent question, but Watanuki had the feeling that it carried a great deal more weight than that. "I," he began, and stopped. "I have to…" _Talk to Doumeki_, he thought, but he would _not_ say that out loud, especially not in present company. "I need to…"

"I have something for you to do," Yuuko told him slyly. "A small errand, not too far from here. And then…" here she grinned evilly, "then we'll need you back for the Watanuki welcome-home party!"

"For which I'll be cooking?" Watanuki asked sullenly.

"But of course!"

With a sigh, Watanuki accepted the fate of lifelong kitchen slave as inevitable and stood up. "What's the errand?" he inquired heavily. "It involves a bunch of hungry spirits trying to eat me and all sorts of unwelcome tag-alongs, right?"

"Not really." Yuuko's grin widened. "But you're right about Doumeki being involved."

"I NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT THAT!" yelled Watanuki in lieu of contemplating the emotions that such a prospect stirred up. Adrenaline most assuredly did _not_ surge, and nor did he find himself relieved. Or if he did, it was only because at some point he was going to have to confront the jerk, and the sooner such pain was dealt with, the better.

Yuuko sent him a knowing and superior Look but didn't comment. "Take this to Doumeki-kun's shrine, and deliver it in _person_," she said, holding out a folded slip of paper. "In person is important."

"Can't you just tell him yourself?" Watanuki grumbled, taking the paper anyway and stalking off.

"But it's more fun this way!" Yuuko called after him gleefully. Only after he had gone did her smile turn softer. "Besides, if he doesn't see Watanuki there, who knows what he'll do?"

--

Shizuka stood on the corner, resisting the temptation to rest his eyes on the concrete below him, and wondered what he was going to do. It was not that he didn't know what he was doing – he _always_ knew exactly what he was doing – but that this knowledge did not extend past the immediate. Clutched in one hand was another letter, as sparse as the first. _I'm coming to find you,_ it said. _I don't care if Yuuko-san says it's impossible._ He hadn't gotten much better at letter-writing the second time, as he'd expected. Such things took time.

He'd found what he was looking for at the university – merely the mundane. He'd walked the hallways and watched the students and spoken to professors, and generally had found it to be a good school. Normal. A place he could go to readjust himself to what might be referred to 'the real world.'

So he'd paid careful attention to it while he was there, and then turned down the offer and gone home with his perplexed father.

The walk back from the train station could be altered to pass Yuuko's shop, so he said he would return home in a short amount of time and excused himself to take the long way. And here he was now, on the corner from which the shop entrance could be seen. He didn't really want to approach it now, even though he knew he would be able to see it. The unfulfilled wish only might have had something to do with this, but more likely it was that he had become a customer once and would always be a customer.

Then again, he'd been able to see the shop because it was necessary for Watanuki. And Watanuki was elsewhere, and didn't need assistance because his problem was for all intents and purposes cured. A trip to Yuuko's now would be nothing but nostalgia. Shizuka had a wish, yes, but he'd asked already and had been refused.

He had broken down and asked about a week after Watanuki's departure, and Yuuko had smiled almost sadly and denied him. _"This is something you couldn't afford,"_ she'd said. _"The toil of years wasn't enough either, but _he_ paid in other ways – ways you would not be able to pay."_ Shizuka had understood. It was not the same, when the act of travel was the wish and not the means. He'd heard of the price paid for a similar wish, and supposed he could count himself lucky that his memory had not been demanded in exchange for what hadn't been granted.

"_He's out of your reach, Doumeki-kun,"_ she had continued. _"That is a price in and of itself."_

And now here he was again at Yuuko's gate, through which he could see the fairly grandiose house, yard a great deal more unkempt than it had been the last time. The letter wasn't on the step anymore, which was hopefully an indication of a successful delivery and not an indication of juvenile delinquency in the area. After another moment of hesitation, he pushed through and stepped into Yuuko's garden.

But Yuuko was nowhere to be seen. As he opened the door to the shop itself, the two girls who never left came pelting down the hall in an overenthusiastic attempt to greet "their" guest. "It's Doumeki-kun!" exclaimed the one with blue hair, taking hold of his right arm. "Doumeki-kun!" echoed the other, taking his left. "It's been so long!" they cried in unison.

"Where is Yuuko-san?" he asked of them.

They immediately ceased their antics. "Mistress isn't home right now," they chanted. "Mistress is busy."

Shizuka hadn't been running on raw purpose – he rarely did outside of life-or-death situations – but he _had_ been counting on getting his answer quickly. Before his life could pull him away from the dangerously small window he still had. Somehow, he knew that letting his chance slip away for an interesting life, one containing Watanuki, would be the worst possible choice he could make. But Yuuko wasn't here. She'd probably known he would be here, but that wasn't an issue. It was not an impossible wish to grant for him, simply difficult to pay for and probably requiring some creativity on Shizuka's part. Perhaps everything was predecided by each action of each second, but nothing was ever set in stone until it had already happened.

In the mean time, there was something he could still do. "I have a letter for Watanuki," he said, holding it out to the girl nearest him. But she shook her head gravely.

"We can't deliver it," the twin girls chorused.

Shizuka stared, barely comprehending and bewildered. "Watanuki is gone from where we can deliver him letters," they explained apologetically. "We can't reach him now."

After a moment of shock and hideous, irrational fear, Shizuka summoned up a weak "Oh," and followed it up with a "Thank you." Then, for lack of anything better to do, he bowed and left the way he came.

"Sorry," he heard the two girls call after him before the door closed.

Shizuka barely paid heed to the rest of the walk home, wrapped up in speculations. He didn't know much about the limitations of Yuuko's shop and the people who resided within, but Watanuki had said that the two girls would be able to reach him, and now they weren't. Which meant that whatever had caused this was unexpected, and also rather sudden. There wasn't much that could get around Yuuko's magic; offhand, Shizuka could only think of a few. Watanuki could have moved to another location that Yuuko had not identified yet. He could have entered a place where magic could have reached.

He could have…died.

Suddenly terrified that this could be so, Shizuka broke into a completely unnecessary run and did not stop for another few blocks. He finally stopped when he nearly went the wrong way and had to pause, at which point he conceded that running would get him absolutely nowhere with this. He was in the wrong dimension to do anything.

And death was not the only possibilty. There was no point in panicking until he knew for certain. And Yuuko should be back eventually, at which point he would return and _demand_ his wish be granted. To hell with the consequences. Hitsuzen was not a great concern of his; nor was danger.

He turned onto his road and reflected that once he wouldn't have been concerned with Watanuki either. That had changed.

There was still time to change the rest.

--


	6. you wait

Watanuki had wondered why Yuuko had stressed the "in-person" delivery until arriving at the temple and remembering that Doumeki was off at university. For a moment, his spirits dropped at the impossibility of the task – he didn't even know which university, or when Doumeki would be home – but then in desperation he opened and read the note.

_He'll be there, Watanuki. He's coming back as you read this._

Instinctively he glanced out the window and saw nothing but the shadows of the temple yard. The sun had set a little while ago and while the sky to the west was still light, that light did not extend to the rest of the what Watanuki could see. He would have doubted Yuuko's statement, except that Yuuko was never wrong about things that happened or would happen. He had the idea it was because she knew too well what had already happened.

But as he watched the darkness grow darker he saw the top of someone's head over the wall, and he had refolded the note by the time the person he'd seen had stepped into the temple yard and established himself as Doumeki. Watanuki wasn't surprised, not after Yuuko's message, but something akin to that emotion that wasn't quite relief and wasn't really happiness nearly overcame him. Anticipation. Sudden adrenaline. Perhaps even a small (or not so small) amount of fear. But too much had happened for him to turn back now, not the least of which was him being here already, and so he stepped in front of the door and waited for Doumeki to open it and see.

--

His father must have left the light on for him, Shizuka reasoned, grateful at least for that. He had some witch-finding to go about – tomorrow. Tonight he was let down and had lost the resolution that had carried him most of the way home. He didn't know what to do. Until he did, he couldn't do anything. Improvisation was failing him.

Entering the temple grounds was always a calming experience, and eased the pang of defeat as it always had. Even if at present he'd failed, there was tomorrow. There was _always_ another tomorrow, which became a today faster than it had seemed yesterday.

But he still could not shake the disappointment. Letting Watanuki down had been synonymous with letting himself down for a long time now. Shizuka wasn't used to being unsuccessful at all. And this was getting him nowhere.

He paused at the door, vision suddenly and inexplicably failing to align. For a moment, he wondered if it could possibly be the other half of his eye – but all he could see was the door. So much for that theory. Turning the unlocked, he pushed the door open.

And there in the light spilling from his room stood Watanuki.

Shizuka couldn't help it; his jaw fell open and he stared. Watanuki hadn't been in this world. How could he just show up in the temple – in Shizuka's room – show up as if the past two months hadn't been?

Was this why the girls had been unable to deliver the letter?

"For once you actually have an expression," Watanuki told him, not scowling but definitely not smiling either. "Yuuko sent me with this." He extended a folded piece of paper which Shizuka accepted numbly but did not open.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked, forcing his voice to sound calm as it normally did on its own.

"I told you, Yuuko sent me with that." The paper might have fluttered a bit, or it could have been an errant breeze through the door. "I came back," Watanuki added, averting his eyes as if in apprehension of the reply.

"You came back," Shizuka repeated, unsure if he wanted more to repeat the goodbye gesture in a different greeting or become angry, properly angry. He did neither but continued to stare at the one before him, who had left and inexplicably come back.

"It was boring and depressing and life there would have been a misery, all right? But that's not the important point here!" Now Watanuki _was_ scowling. "You were going to leave things like that, without answers! You…you completely…and that letter, that was supposed to make up for it? You expect me to just be _okay_ with…with…" His rant lost its fire and died away, and the expression on his face turned confused, perhaps even shy. "With all that?" he finished in a small voice.

"All that," Shizuka repeated.

"Will you stop only saying what I say?" Watanuki demanded, once again full of fire. "You know what I mean!"

"And that's why you came back." It was a bait, but Shizuka knew well enough how to get answers out of Watanuki. It took coaxing and hearing damage.

"I told you why I came back! I'm asking you these things now because I'm here already, so you can explain now! Or open the damn note!" There was a hint, a very slightest hint of panic in Watanuki's voice that could have been read as anger. Shizuka found he knew what he was going to do now, and a small light flashed in the back of his head: _go for it._

"All that," he reiterated, "is because I didn't think I'd get another chance at it." He didn't open the note, not really caring what Yuuko had to say at this point. There were more important matters, such as Watanuki's clearly bewildered expression.

"Another chance at…"

"Are you leaving again?" Shizuka cut in.

"No, I'm…staying here," Watanuki replied. "But –"

Shizuka didn't bother hearing the rest of this statement, but instead leaned in and closed the short distance between them with a second kiss. He let it carry on longer than the first, and didn't push away when he was done. There was time to deal with the consequences this time. There was time. And he knew what he was doing.

"I – that was – I mean!" Watanuki stammered, not actually growing angry but turning an intriguing shade of red. "That was!"

"I kissed you," Shizuka finished, probably not helpfully. He didn't much care.

"I know that!" snapped the other. "I know what kissing is, you moron! But you, you kissed me, and you did it twice, and damnit, that's not _normal_! For you especially!"

Shizuka smirked. "You really are an idiot," he stated, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

"_Just who_ _are you calling an idiot?!_" Watanuki demanded, as expected. "I'm just to make sense of the weird things you're doing, and you just damn well kissed me so I have _right_ to be confused and, and, and!"By this time, his face was the reddest Shizuka had ever seen it. It was an amazing sight.

"You're still an idiot," he replied.

"_YOU CAN'T SAY THAT UNTIL YOU EXPLAIN YOURSELF!_" yelled Watanuki, loud enough that the neighbors would probably complain. In fact, the rest of the Doumeki family would probably complain too. Shizuka found he didn't really care.

"I kissed you –" he relished the sudden look of panic on Watanuki's face " – because it was what I chose to do." He stepped forward, into his own room, effectively forcing Watanuki to take a step back if he wanted to maintain a distance between them. It was gratifying when Watanuki did not back up very far.

"Ah – you should…" Watanuki swallowed nervously, "you should read Yuuko's note."

Lacking a reason not to, Shizuka obeyed and scanned the contents of the letter. Written in Yuuko's unmistakable script were the words: _Kiss him, you fool!_

"A bit late for that," he commented.

"What?" Watanuki snatched the note and read it, turning an even more vibrant shade of red. It was getting a little worrying. "I NEVER SAID THAT!" he protested loudly. "I NEVER SAID THAT AT ALL, DAMN YOU!"

"Said what?" Shizuka took the note back from ragefully-shaking fingers, but all he could read was: _Don't worry, Doumeki-kun, he's just in a wee bit of denial._ He glanced over at Watanuki, and speculated that "a wee bit" in Yuuko-speak was the same as "the entire Egyptian river-full".

"I didn't say anything!" Watanuki cried, flailing his arms wildly and knocking himself over onto the floor. Shizuka did not capitalise on the situation, and instead admired his self-restraint. He offerred a hand and was snapped at but allowed to help Watanuki up.

"Never mention this," Watanuki grumbled. "What did the note say to you anyway?"

Shizuka figured it would be just as easy to show.


	7. my view is changing

_And with this, I have FINISHED. It's done. This is the first fic I've posted online and finished since...well, we won't go there. Ever, really. _

_Now watch me break down and write a sequel. THAT IS NOT A PROMISE._

_Review! Tell me what you thought! It's been fun, for me at least. There will be more 104 from me soon, never fear._

* * *

I didn't expect you to be so…_blunt_ about it. Just that simple. You kissed me. Was that really all there was to it? Could things be that easy? I wondered if maybe for you they could.

I would like to have thought I didn't like it, was shocked and horrified, but…I wasn't. The second time wasn't a surprise, and I supposed I'd had a subconscious idea that you would do something like that. I wanted answers, and I got answers. I had no reason to complain, and yet I always have a complaint. I didn't have anything coherent to say after the third time. You probably planned it that way.

And of course I didn't want it to happen. It was just one of those inevitable things. I came back. Yuuko was a drunk. You kissed me twice that time. Next time would probably be four, and so on…assuming there would be a next time. I didn't think it was likely, when I didn't show any interest in the idea. It wasn't as if I _liked_ being kissed by you. I was just used to hitsuzen getting the better of me. If hitsuzen said that not only would you be a damned annoying jerk, you would also be in love with me and not a half-bad kisser –

No. You weren't. I was _not_ thinking that.

Okay, I was.

No, I _wasn't_. I was just accepting the consequences of my actions. Things wouldn't be the same, and they weren't the same. This was something that had changed. That was all.

That was _all_.

You were looking at me, or rather watching me, with an air that said quite clearly that you were waiting for something out of me. I had the strangest urge to take a step forward and reclaim the place I had been standing until you backed me up…except that would be directly in front of you. That could spell nothing but trouble. I didn't want to give the wrong impression.

But it occurred to me that you were waiting for something and if I didn't deliver, I might be subjected to more of _that_, and I didn't want that. I didn't. Did I? I didn't. Anything else was Yuuko eating at the fringes of my sanity, and nothing more. Or perhaps the remnants of loneliness from that world I'd been in. That would be enough to make _anyone_ think strange thoughts. That was what was going on, nothing more. Nothing more.

"They, ah, they sold my flat," I stammered. "So I'll be at Yuuko's now, I guess." If you need to find me, I didn't finish. You probably would reach that conclusion on your own. I would _not_ give anything more than I absolutely had to. "And you're going back to university?"

You blinked, and I could have sworn my breath caught. It was probably the dust. You probably didn't clean very well in here. "I'm not," you stated as if it were obvious. "Why would you say that?"

The nerve! "That's what you said in your letter!" I snapped, vexed once again by your infuriating air of superiority and ignoring the thought that you hadn't acted quite so superior a moment ago when you…

_No._

Well, you hadn't. That was true enough. It didn't _mean_ anything. It…

"I never said I was going back." You took another step forward and I almost didn't bother responding with a step back. What would you do if I interrupted the flow? But I had an idea I knew exactly what you would do, and twice in a night was _really_ quite enough for me, no matter what Yuuko might have said about yearning. I backed up, and tripped over your futon, landing heavily on my back and blinking up at your face where the ceiling should have been.

"Don't _loom_ like that!" I panicked ever so slightly – only because I felt threatened like this, of course. Not because you were standing over me and it was awkward or _anything _like that. It was awkward – but only in the sense that it was you there and that didn't make it sound any better. I could feel my face heating up, and in horror turned it to the side.

That was a mistake. "Better?" you whispered in my ear, and I froze. That was _not _adrenaline. I was _not_ excited, I was uncomfortable and definitely wanted you to move. Definitely. Not a chance of anything else and…

"No, it _isn't_!" I whispered fiercely back, or as fiercely as I was able. "What are you _doing_?"

"What are _you_ doing?" you replied, and I turned my head back to discover that in my discomfort I had rolled myself _directly underneath you._ Biting back a shriek – that was the last thing I needed, at this stage – I edged myself to the right, only to run into your arm. My face had not cooled any. I was beginning to fear it never would.

"Could you move your arm?" I asked in a strained whisper. Why was I whispering? I wasn't sure, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know. At this point, there were a lot of things I didn't want to know. And didn't want. For instance, I really didn't want you to lean down and kiss me again. Because, it occurred to me, if you did I would be absolutely powerless to stop you. And that idea was not appealing at _all_.

Well, no more than just a little. In a hypothetical situation. If it wasn't _you_.

You didn't, though. You stared down at me, still not saying anything, until I wondered if I would go mad from the tension (and that was platonic tension, as in you wouldn't get up and until you moved I was stuck, and not in any other way) before you let me go. "Do you have something to say?" I demanded.

"Do you?"

"I –" _Of course I do, you cretin. Get the hell off of me, _now. But the words, for some reason, refused to come, and I was left opening and closing my mouth like the idiot you said I was. "I…"

You moved your face the slightest bit closer. "Didn't catch that," you told me, and I was amazed you didn't smirk to rival Yuuko.

_That's because I didn't say anything! Yet! Get off me! Or do something, but just stop _sitting_ there!_ "I…" I cursed myself for a defective throat, which seemed to be losing my words before I could speak them. And then you did smile, although for once it didn't look too much like a smirk, and I wondered what I'd doomed myself to. And then I thought about it, and realised I knew exactly what I'd condemned myself to. And I wasn't looking forward to it at all.

Well, not much.

* * *

_THE END._


End file.
